I have often observed, that there is a regular alternation of good and evil in the lot of men, so that a favourable incident may be considered as the harbinger of an unfavourable one, and vice verså. Dr. Madan's experience witnesses to the truth of this observation. One day he gets a broken head, and the next a mitre to heal it. I rejoice that he has met with so effectual a cure, though my joy is not unmingled with concern; for till now I had some hope of seeing him, but since I live in the North, and his episcopal call is in the West, that is a gratification, I suppose, which I must no longer look for.

My Sonnet, which I sent you, was printed in the Northampton Paper last week; and this week it produced me a complimentary one in the same Paper, which served to convince me at least by the matter of it, that my own was not published without occasion, and that it had answered its purpose.

My correspondence with Hayley proceeds briskly, and is very affectionate on both sides. I expect him here in about a fortnight, and wish heartily, with Mrs. Unwin, that you would give him a meeting. I have promised him, indeed, that he shall find us alone, but you are one of the family.

I wish much to print the following Lines in one of the daily papers. Lord S's vindication of the poor culprit in the affair of Cheit-sing, has confirmed me in the belief that he has been inju

riously

riously treated, and I think it an act merely of justice to take a lit

tle notice of him.

To WARREN HASTINGS, Esqr.

By an old School-fellow of his, at Westminster.

Hastings! I knew thee young, and of a mind
While young, humane, conversable and kind,
Nor can I well believe thee, gentle then,
Now grown a villain, and the worst of men.
But rather some suspect, who have oppress'd
And worried thee, as not themselves the BEST.

If thou will take the pains to send them to thy news-monger, I hope thou wilt do well.. ́Adieu.

poned. A year's learning and wisdom, added to your present stock, will not be more than enough to satisfy the demands of your function. Neither am I that find it difficult to fix your sorry you thoughts

thoughts to the serious point at all times. It proves at least, that you attempt and wish to do it; and these are good symptoms: Woe to those who enter on the ministry of the Gospel without having previously asked, at least from God, a mind and spirit suited to their occupation, and whose experience never differs from itself; because they are always alike vain, light, and inconsiderate. It is, therefore, mat er of great joy to me to hear you complain of levity, and such it is to Mrs. Unwin. She is, I thank God, tolerably well, and loves you. As to the time of your journey hither, the sooner after June the better; till then we shall have company.

I forget not my debts to your dear Sister, and your Aunt Balls. Greet them both with a Brother's kiss, and place it to my account. I will write to them when Milton, and a thousand other engagemcnts, will give me leave. Mr. Hayley is here on a visit. We have formed a friendship that I trust will last for life, and render us an edifying example to all future Poets.

Adieu, lose no time in coming after the time mentioned.

W. C.

The Reader is informed by the close of the last Letter, that I was at this time the guest of Cowper. Our meeting, so singularly produced, was a source of reciprocal delight; we looked cheerfully

VOL. II.

G

forward

forward to the unclouded enjoyment of many social and literary hours.

My host, though now in his sixty-first year, appeared as happily exempt from all the infirmities of advanced life, as friendship could wish him to be; and his more elderly companion, not materially oppressed by the age of seventy-two, discovered a benevolent alertness of character that seemed to promise a continuance of their domestic comfort. Their reception of me was kindness itself:-I was enchanted to find that the manners and conversation of Cowper resembled his Poetry, charming by unaffected elegance, and the graces of a benevolent spirit. I looked with affectionate veneration and pleasure on the Lady, who, having devoted her life and fortune to the service of this tender and sublime genius, in watching over him with maternal vigilance though many years of the darkest calamity, appeared to be now enjoying a reward justly due to the noblest exertions of friendship, in contemplating the health and the renown of the Poet, whom she had the happiness to preserve.

It seemed hardly possible to survey human nature in a more touching, and a more satisfactory, point of view.-Their tender attention to each other, their simple devout gratitude for the mercies which they had experienced together, and their constant, but unaffected, propensity to impress on the mind and heart of a new friend the deep sense, which they incessently felt, of their mutual obliga

tions to each other, afforded me very singular gratification; which my Reader will conceive the more forcibly, when he has perused the following exquisite Sonnet, addressed by Cowper to Mrs. Unwin.

SONNET.

Mary! I want a lyre with other strings;

Such aid from Heaven, as some have feign'd they drew !

An eloquence scarce given to mortals, new,

And undebas'd by praise of meaner things!

That ere through age or woe I shed my wings,

1 may record thy worth, with honor due,

In verse as musical, as thou art true,
Verse, that immortalizes whom it sings!

But thou hast little need: There is a Book,
By Seraphs writ, with beams of heavenly light,
On which the eyes of God not rarely look

A chronicle of actions, just and bright!

;

There all thy deeds, my faithful Mary, shine,

And since thou own'st that praise, I spare thee mine.

The delight that I derived from a perfect view of the virtues, the talents, and the present domestic enjoyments of Cowper, was suddenly overcast by the darkest and most painful anxiety..